Chapter 14

Fourteen

If Mr Bennet was relieved by Jane's change of heart, he did not reveal it. He cast a weary eye over his eldest daughter and asked her to repeat the story of her romantic epiphany a second time before his attention drifted to Elizabeth.

"Lizzy and I have each had our concerns about the speed with which you determined yourself eager to marry Mr Wickham," he said slowly. "It took less than a fortnight, and the engagement has not been two months yet. This change of heart is sudden as well. Are you so certain now that you do not wish to marry him?"

Jane's face reddened even further than it had when she haltingly told her father of her decision. "Yes, for it is to the advantage of neither if my heart does not belong to him. He deserves a less impetuous wife." She sniffed back a sob, and Elizabeth nearly erupted into detailing all the reasons Mr Wickham did not deserve a wife as good as Jane.

"Mr Wickham is not faultless, my girl," said their father in a harsh tone. "You deserve a man who will remain near you and court you properly—not go off to conduct business none of us understand and send letters that demand far too much. If I—" He shook his head, then fumbled with his spectacles and began cleaning them.

"Papa, what has Mr Wickham done to upset you?"

Jane's plaintive question went unanswered. She was innocent to whatever troubles Mr Wickham was making for their father, and Elizabeth was determined to keep her sister and her tender—and altogether too transient—emotions out of the resolution. She will not marry a man out of guilt.

And yet the idea that Mr Wickham was making demands beyond the settlement Mr Bennet could offer obviously had not occurred to Jane. Her sister had not questioned the stories and promises made by her future husband, and Elizabeth had been loath to vex her with her own worries. But of course he would be unhappy with Jane's meagre portion if he had no fortune of his own. Once again, Mr Darcy was proved correct about the man's character.

Taking Jane's arm, Elizabeth led her to the door. She looked back at Mr Bennet, who sat, grey-faced, watching them.

"Girls, say nothing to your mother or sisters until Mr Wickham is made aware of Jane's decision. Apparently, I must write to him."

As Darcy helped Miss Bingley down from the carriage in Longbourn's drive the following day, he felt her deep sigh and prepared for some grievance about calling on the Bennets. Instead, she whispered more pointed words. "Mr Darcy, do help me ensure one of us sits between my brother and Miss Bennet. I fear he continues to disregard your advice. He was humming in the carriage!"

And how I wished to join in, Darcy thought. "I shall observe his behaviour." In what he soon would learn was a prescient bit of advice, he added, "Perhaps it is best not to ask about Miss Bennet's wedding plans, as that often sparks Bingley's ardour."

The smile with which Elizabeth greeted him and the Netherfield party led him to take a seat beside her—leaving Bingley free to claim a chair near Miss Bennet and her mother. Their actions earned a scowl from Miss Bingley, which both men disregarded. Darcy noticed that Mr Bennet was, again, absent from their society. Once greetings were made and separate conversations begun—thank God for Hurst and his praise for Mrs Bennet's cook—Darcy leant towards Elizabeth and said quietly, "You are in high spirits."

She raised a hand to her lips and whispered, "Jane's feelings have altered. She has broken off her engagement."

"Truly?" There was too much to say—he was surprised, relieved, and curious—but he could not ask further questions in a crowded drawing room. Darcy glanced at Miss Bennet, who looked a little pale but was agreeably engaged in conversation with Bingley and Miss Lydia.

"No one but my father is aware, and his response has been somewhat careful," Elizabeth said before turning to respond to a question from her mother.

Careful? What has been said in his correspondence with Wickham? Darcy sat in contemplation for a moment, wondering how Miss Bennet had come to her decision and how Wickham might respond. He suspected Bingley's eager charms had something to do with the lady's change of heart, but it mattered little. She was safe—barring whatever ugliness Wickham might create. He had never been inclined to violence, but Darcy did not think him likely to walk away. He may come here.

As a light rain began outside Longbourn's windows, he turned from listening to Miss Catherine's conversation with Mrs Hurst and Miss Lucas and caught Elizabeth's eye as she concluded what had been a quiet tête-à-tête with Miss Mary. He stood and moved towards the windows, hoping Elizabeth would join him and wondering how soon Miss Bingley would announce an incoming storm which demanded they flee back to Netherfield.

"Mr Bingley is quite perceptive that something has shifted in Jane," Elizabeth said quietly, coming to stand beside him, her gaze meeting his in the glass pane. "Much as we needed the rain, it is a shame the weather will not reflect even unspoken relief and allow us all to walk out of doors."

His small smile was no match for the warmth he could see in hers. "I would like that as well, yet who needs the sun when here is the centre of so much potential happiness."

She wrinkled her nose—charmingly, he thought, biting his lip and wishing he did not need to turn the conversation to something more serious. Yet he must. "Did you tell her of our conversation?"

"No, she came to the decision based on her own lack of feeling."

Darcy nearly laughed. Just deserts for Wickham. "She has written to him?"

Elizabeth's brow creased. "Yes, before the assembly. He likely received her letter yesterday, but he will reply, probably more than once. He has been a prolific correspondent—a great writer of love letters."

"Full of florid prose and false promises? I may be ill," he grumbled. Wickham could lie as easily with a pen as he could with his tongue, but his willingness to exert himself by writing letters was surprising.

"You, sir, are a great correspondent. Jane told me how often Miss Darcy received your letters."

"Ah, yes, but rather than gushes of love, a brother writes of day-to-day happenings and observances of a good meal or poor company. Far more eloquent and far less embarrassing, I assure you."

She gave him a challenging look. "A little practice and I am certain ‘florid prose' could come easily to any gentleman. Whether he could withstand the mortification of the experience is another matter entirely."

"I suppose that depends on a gentleman's heart, and his pride." Darcy stared at her reflection until she turned her attention to a small smudge and began swiping at it with her finger.

"Mr Wickham has been so effusive about his feelings…is it possible he will not accept her decision and come here? Jane may feel obliged or could fall again under his sway."

That was a possibility. Wickham had charmed them once, and whatever his reasons for wishing to marry Miss Bennet, he did not like when his toys were taken away. Darcy's gaze became intense. "No harm will come to your family. Not as long as Bingley and I remain at Netherfield."

He had been willing to do all he could to separate Wickham from the Bennets; now, as he stood beside the one whose heart and spirit had driven him, he realised he needed to communicate that Jane Bennet's romantic travails were not the only reason for his interest. In a low voice, he said, "If weather permits, walk with me tomorrow morning and tell me of your favourite pastime, your most despised duty, your childhood mischief, and the foods you most revile. Not a word shall be spoken of this other, most wearisome topic."